


Just an Intermission

by ronzcaby



Category: Super Mario & Related Fandoms, Super Mario Bros. (Video Games), Super Paper Mario (Game)
Genre: Gen, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Mentioned Mr. L (Super Paper Mario), Mild Gore, POV First Person, Post-Canon, Post-Super Paper Mario, dimentio/being fucked up and evil, i feel like i should tag more but i'm drawing a blank sorry, just be careful i guess!, that tag is a joke obviously but yeah that's the plot of this i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27941435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronzcaby/pseuds/ronzcaby
Summary: I remember how light he felt in my strings, like a puppet.  A perfect puppet.My puppet.  My Mr. L.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Just an Intermission

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally a gift for a friend I wrote back in artober of 2019 and this'll be the first time it'll see the light of day.  
> hope you enjoy it!

What a strange feeling.

A strange feeling indeed.

A feeling of being weightless.

A feeling of floating, like a balloon that was cut from a child’s wrist by a stranger.

Or maybe not just the balloon.

No, the whole arm. It’s gone.

Only the hand remains.

That’s what was left.

A gloved hand.

The nub of a shoulder is just hidden underneath patterned cloth.

Nothing in between.

No wonder I feel weightless.

I have no arms.

Just hands.

Magical hands.

I want to kick my legs around in glee. I have less weight to carry.

So I do.

Ah, there’s the feeling.

It hit me hard all of a sudden, like how a bus meets a body that didn’t see the no crossing sign.

Is that what happened? Is that why I feel numb?

No, I’m just not used to this size again yet.

I want to move around. See the world I ended up in.

So I do.

All I see is white. There’s nothing as far as I can see.

It was like I was stuck in an endless hallway.

I don’t like it.

I want to get out.

I want to continue my performance.

I want to feel like God again.

I did with him.

The sound of his bones cracking and his limbs stretching was like music to my ears.

The roots of the plant in his head stretched around his brain, like a child grabbing a toy.

His eyes rolled upwards until his pupils were no more.

I remember how light he felt in my strings, like a puppet. A perfect puppet.

My puppet. My Mr. L.

The Heart of Darkness consumed us. We were under its protection.

With my power and my toy’s likeness, we created the perfect vessel.

I had arms again in that moment.

I watched Mr. L’s arms stretch in so many inhuman ways as I controlled him.

His body moved like it was lifeless, like a puppet. A perfect puppet.

But I could still hear his pained cries in my mind.

Begging me to stop. Begging me to let him go. Begging me to set him free.

I didn’t listen.

I refused to listen.

I couldn’t listen even if I wanted to. It was impossible.

I was too busy laughing.

Laughing at his words. Laughing at his friends in pain. Laughing at his dying brother.

I could feel my own body twisting and turning.

I swore I saw Mr. L’s corpse cringe at the sound of my mask’s expression changing.

The wet, squelching sound echoed in our vessel as my smile grew and grew.

I thought if I smiled any more my mask would crack and break in half.

But it didn’t.

What difference would it have made anyway?

I was God. Nothing could stop me. I was a flawless puppeteer.

I could’ve drank a glass of water and still have been able to mimic the sound of his screams.

But I didn’t.

That’s when things got blurry.

The strings started to break one by one.

Those damn Pure Hearts.

I thought I destroyed them but no.

Of course. Something always goes wrong during a show.

But this time, I couldn’t improvise for the crowd.

My body twitched and twisted in knots as I felt my power slip.

Mr. L smiled at me. Mr. L stared at me with his dead eyes.

His mouth moved but I couldn’t hear him.

I didn’t want to anyway.

I refused to.

I couldn’t even if I wanted to. It was impossible.

I was too busy screaming.

I felt my arms get torn from my shoulders all over again.

The disgusting sound of my muscles being ripped apart made me sick.

I wanted it to be over. I wanted to wish for the world to end through my dying breath.

So I did.

That’s when I left.

I left the lifeless brother of the hero in the Heart of Darkness’ hands.

I left my puppet to be disposed of in the dying world.

And now I’m here.

But this isn’t the Underwhere.

This isn’t the Overthere.

And this isn’t my Game Over.

No, I still have to finish my ultimate show.

I pulled out the Dark Prognosticus from under my clothing, smiling like a child in a candy store.

My story. My Bible. My way back.

I opened the book and started to read the newly inked pages.

The book was never going to end. But that only made my mask shift into a horrifying smirk.

After all, the show must go on.


End file.
